


Agnes Nutter and the diary-that-was-actually-a-ploy-to-get-these-idiots-together

by memesf0r0ne



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Books, Butchering of Old English, Crack, Gen, M/M, Sort Of, Suggestive prophecies, ineffable husbands, sexy prophecies?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-24 04:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20352277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memesf0r0ne/pseuds/memesf0r0ne
Summary: A little miraculous persuasion never hurt anyone, thought Aziraphale, and he repeated his inquiry. "Sir, who has 'The Diary of Agnes Nutter, From 1648 to 1656'?"The librarian's face went blank. "A J Crowley, sir."Aziraphale grinned meaningfully, and the man was pulled from his trance. "Thank you, have a good day!"





	1. Part One

"Are you  _ one hundred percent sure _ that you have  _ no more _ copies of it?"

"I'm sorry, Mr Fell, but the only copy we have has been overdue for...um…" Jared consulted his computer, frowning. "One hundred and six years. Somehow."

"How is that possible?! Who has it?" Aziraphale demanded, before exhaling. "Right. I apologize, could you tell me what bastard possessed this rare copy, which they've managed to nab for over a century?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that."

A little miraculous persuasion never hurt anyone, thought Aziraphale, and he repeated his inquiry. "Sir, who has 'The Diary of Agnes Nutter, From 1648 to 1656'?"

The librarian's face went blank. "A J Crowley, sir."

Aziraphale grinned meaningfully, and the man was pulled from his trance. "Thank you, have a good day!"

It was two in the afternoon, and Crowley was not expecting visitors in his flat. He never got guests that weren't occult beings or coworkers. Intrigued, he didn't lower his plant mister when he went to answer the door. He neglected his glasses. Fortunately, he wouldn't need them for this visit―

"Aziraphale!" he exclaimed, nearly falling back as the angel advanced, clearly miffed, but hiding it under a thin smile.

"My dear, darling Crowley, do you have any idea why I'm here?"

"Dropping by to say hello?" Crowley asked nervously. Aziraphale smiled in a way reminiscent of Gabriel's passive-aggressive, close-lipped grin.

"I'm looking for a book, which apparently, you've owned for one hundred and four years. Wait, no, one hundred and  _ six _ ."

"Ah. Um. I'm not sure what you mean, angel, I don't read very much―"

"Agnes Nutter's diary, from the year 1648 to her death. And you had better have a good reason for hoarding it this long."

"Angel! Please calm the fuck down! I don't even rem― oh, wait. Downstairs. They asked me to take it so that no one else could." He grinned sheepishly. "Yeah. Sorry about that. They didn't want anyone reading the prophecies, in case non-occult people might try to prevent...stuff...kind of funny, though, because  _ we _ actually ended up doing that anyways―"

"Dear," said Aziraphale, reaching out and clasping onto Crowley's arm in a vaguely threatening manner, "Can I have the book?"

"It's not even full of prophecies, angel. Well. It sort of is, I suppose? Not sure. Haven't actually read it. Pretty sure it isn't really a diary, but―"

"Can you give it to me?"

"Oh, yeah, of course, love," Crowley said, patting the hand Aziraphale had on his arm. He led the bookseller to his room. "Could you...erm...let go of me? It's under the bed."

"Certainly!" Aziraphale answered, happy now that he had procured the promise that he would get the book. Not that he trusted Crowley, a  _ demon _ , except for that, well, he did.

He pointedly looked away as Crowley squirmed underneath the bed, butt straight up in the air.

"A'ight! Found it!"

"Fantastic. Can I have it now?"

"Yeah. Would you...erm, read it to me?"

"Certainly." Crowley tossed the book blindly, and it landed at Aziraphale's feet. He opened it up at random while Crowley removed himself from under the bed.

**1083- on a date whenn the angele ſhalle be inne that of fallen ſainte, they ſhalle openn thiſ tomme, and be enlytenned.**

"Will you read it, angel?" Crowley asked, suddenly over his shoulder.

"W-well, um. It says, well, okay." Aziraphale read it aloud, and Crowley nearly fainted.

" _ Inne that of fallen ſainte _ ? What― she doesn't mean―"

"I think she meant that I'm in your flat, Crowley," Aziraphale answered, though the red on his face said he thought otherwise.

"Ah. Yes. Of course. Right. Yes."

"'Enlightened'? What do the other prophecies say?"

"How should I know?"

Aziraphale sighed. "It was a rhetorical question, dear."

"And what does she mean, 'on a date'? Like, you aren't― we aren't―"

" _ Day _ , Crowley. She doesn't mean that kind of date. Anyways. Other prophecies― this isn't a diary―"

"Wait, does that one have my name?"

Pausing, Aziraphale looked. "Ah. Yes.  _ 'The fallen ſainte Crowly did nott knowe that his angele lied about the flatte. _ ' Oh. Erm. I haven't lied about the flat, I'm not sure what she―"

Crowley glanced pointedly towards the previous prophecy.

"Oh. Oh dear."

"You don't think she means―"

"I believe she wasn't incorrect, though," Aziraphale admitted.

Crowley swallowed. "So… do we…?"


	2. Part Two

"Well, that was enlightening," Crowley commented, gasping for breath. Aziraphale rolled over in the bed and loosely tossed his arm over Crowley's stomach.

"Was it, dear?"

"What, you don't think so?" Crowley nuzzled his nose into Aziraphale's neck.

"Oh, I most certainly do," he chuckled, leaning over to kiss the demon. "You know," he said after a pause for breath, "I always thought we'd end up doing it at my house."

"Y-you've thought about this before?"

"Of course, my dear."

"Shit, I think I want to do it again," Crowley said, glancing down at his pants. They were no longer very accommodating.

A laugh bubbled out of Aziraphale, and Crowley felt luckier than any other being, celestial, occult, or otherwise.

"Aziraphale, I," he began, but once he had the angel's attention, he nearly lost his train of thought. "I. Um. I llll― I like you. I  _ like _ like you. I don't...like anyone at this level of like. Liking. Whatever. Yeah."

"I love you too, Crowley," answered Aziraphale.

"Love. That's it. But you know that...you can sense it, can't you?"

"That's the thing, Crowley. The amount of love I've received from you since the garden grows at an exponential rate...of increase, of course, but. It's still the same. Well. Same  _ kind _ as the garden."

"That's when I first...loved you."

"That was when we first met!"

"Yup. Basically."

Aziraphale paused, before jumping up to the challenge of procuring more… enlightenment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can only write smut at 2am and it's five, sorry.


End file.
